The Insignia
by Albukirky
Summary: Everyone needs a distraction from the mundane. For Gilbert a blue collar worker stuck in a grey and dreary live, his respite might just arrived in the form of a young man with blue eyes and golden hair. Germancest. AU-ish.


**The Insignia**

**Summary: Everyone needs a distraction from the mundane. For Gilbert, his respite might just arrived in the form of a young man with blue eyes and golden hair. Germancest. AU-ish.**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**It's hard to explain what this story is about. Please, please, just read it with an open mind and I SWEAR, the ending will explain everything!**

**This is Part 1 of 3.**

* * *

The ceiling leaks when it rains.

The sky overhead was dull and dreary with the sun shielded away by the dark, angry clouds. Gilbert would bet his – very meagre wage – that the weather would throw snow at them today or would rain again like last week, and the week before that and the week before. The weather forecasts had predicted snow, but they had been wrong before. The last time they predicted rain, they ended up with a torrential downpour and blocks of hale. Gilbert nearly got hit on the head by a particularly large one.

All in all, it was promising to be a wet and cold day; perfect start to the week. As he grabbed his backpack and put on his shoes, he could hear the tell-tale pitter patter of rain.

As per expectation.

Giving the ceiling a helpless gaze as rainwater started dripping into his room, he grabbed his waterproof coat, wrapping it around him and tugged the black beret over his silver hair – the wind had busted his only umbrella last week and he had yet to find the time to replace it. It didn't really help much in keeping the cold away but at least he would arrive to work not completely drenched. More or less.

He was just on time to hop on the train when he arrived at the station. No seats were available as usual. Beside him on the overcrowded morning commute were people like him, whose lives depended upon this little paycheck to keep on going. Garbed in the same drab clothes. The damp smell of wet clothing and wetter shoes permeates the stilted air.

No one really smiled around here, he noted the first time he arrived in this grey, cheerless town. Not that he could blame them. The country was in the midst of a financial depression. He was lucky to even be able to find a job. Even if the pay only was merely able to sustain him. His past was a blur to him after the war. His parents were dead and he belonged to no one else. When he was offered it, he the took the job without hesitation (beggars can't be choosers now, can they?)

He dropped off at the station and the rain was still as ceaseless as ever. It might start flooding and Gilbert cringed at the thought. The last time it did, the train services were cancelled and he had to walk home. In the rain. Even this morning, the train had arrived later than the expected time. He made his way to the orphanage at a rapid face – he ran and nearly slipped on a puddle of water that had gathered in front of the old building where he worked. He barely allowed himself a moment of reprieve before the voice of his superior rang out to him, loud and clear in the frigid air:

"Late again, Beilschmidt!"

_Oh, great._

It took a while for Mr. Blum's ire to fade today for some reason or other (Gilbert personally suspected domestic issues, what with that sort of attitude) but after a 'final warning' for the umpteenth times, he banished Gilbert out of his sight. He made his customary stop at the galley and made a beeline for the coffee pot standing on the stove. He got a cup and helped himself. The coffee was, as a rule, always cold and oily tasting. He drank it anyway, careful to avoid the sharp edges where the pottery was chipping, gazing at the window that looked out to nothing but the high grey wall that separated this city from the dangerous lands beyond; the ugly remnant of the war.

He tried not to think too much about it. It was none of his business. This was his business now, a hand in running this little institution, where the unwanted, the cripple and the sick congregate. He, himself was no different than any of them. At the very least this job gave him a sense of purpose, even if it's just pretend.

"Oh, there you are, I thought you're not coming in,"a female voice accosted him out of his thoughts. His partner Elizavetta stood at the galley door, holding a large tarnished metal tray full of cups and two large teapots. Breakfast had ended for the occupants of the building. "Klein already called in to say that he is down with cold and can't come in today."

"The train was late," he said shortly, watching, as she carefully unloaded the dishes at the belfast sink.

The air of conversation around them was stilted, a remnant of an occurrence that left them sniping at each other the week before. But the weekend had managed to temper the residual of their fight and slowly Gilbert can feel Elizavetta eased back into their normal tempo.

She sighed. "The train services had been troublesome lately. I was nearly late myself this morning"

"Ah, you miss the joy of being yelled and lectured at by dear ol' Blum." he grinned.

Elizavetta shook her head incredulously, "Only you can be so cheerful after being yelled at by that beast."

Gilbert shrugged. "Can't be help, can it?" he grinned. "There's no rest for the wicked."

She smiled, as she washed the dishes and the mood thawed further. Gilbert stood, passing his used cup to her and wordlessly picking up the clean rag to dry the rest of the dishes before placing them carefully in the cupboard. He started humming to himself, a tune of a song the name of he had forgotten.

"I'm sorry about what I said last week."

He stopped mid-chorus. Oh well, women really need to talk things out don't they? It's just too bad that he _didn't_ like to talk about it.

"It's not last week anymore, so let's just forget about it."

Elizavetta sighed, obviously not wanting to drop the matter away. "I should not have said what I said. I was angry and didn't think - ,"

"Liz, come on. I don't want to talk about it anymore, alright."

Elizavetta had the gall to glare at him for_ not_ wanting to argue. The irony.

Gilbert's eyes flashed in response and for a moment he could see the fiery nature of Elizavetta that was always so well hidden beneath responsibility brought to the surface. Her green eyes hardened in return. _Here we go_ _again,_ Gilbert thought. But before anything could transpire and make the morning more interesting, Elizavetta had caught herself and reigned in her temper. He could visibly see her deflating.

"Fine," she said. "I don't care," she mumbled, turning to leave, long honey coloured hair trailing behind.

_Oh no, not so fast._

Fast as lightning, he came up behind her to swoop her off the floor. Elizavetta shrieked instinctively in shock and started struggling to be let down.

"Put me down, you idiot!" she hissed, clearly suppressing her desire to shout out loud at him. There's no gain in making a scene around here after all and they both knew it.

"Nuh uh."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt put me down right this instance before Mr Blum sees us and fire us!" there was a little note of panic creeping into her indignant tone that managed to penetrate into his playful mood. After all, he knew that _he_, at least would definitely be fired if 'The Beast' as Elizavetta called him were to catch them in this compromising position.

That sobered him up pretty quickly. "Fine," he said echoing her tone earlier. "On one condition."

"What?"

He grinned. "Kiss me."

She ceased struggling at that and he loosened his grip. Slowly she turned her face towards him, eyes on his lips and her breath warm on his face. She leaned closer and his heart quickened. "Ugh, no," she suddenly said and Elizavetta, tricky woman that she was, took advantage of the situation and stomp him on his foot. Hard.

"Ouch, auw, what the hell?"

She stood, straightening her dress with a satisfied look on her face as he jumped around in pain, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from yowling in pain.

"You wound me, Elizavetta." he said but in jests and his heart felt lightened. He loved Elizavetta and hated any discourse with her. She was, after all, the only one he could even call a friend around here.

"Served you right, you barbarian!"

"Auw, come on. I know you want to!" he teased.

"I'll never kiss a brute like you!" she scoffed back in return.

He was about to retort back with a suitably sarcastic response, when someone at the end of the corridor caught his attention.

A strange young man, perhaps around 20 years of age stood there at the eave of door that leads to the upstairs, his golden hair and eyes bright in the gloom of the drabbed hallway. In fact, everything about the boy seemed to transcends everything aound him.

He glowed. Which was, as Gilbert berated himself for thinking it, an odd and ridiculous thought. He might be catching a fever from the rain. Yes, that must be it.

Most disconcertingly, the boy was looking at Gilbert with such an ardent expression. It sent shivers up his spine. But then, without a word to either of them, the boy disappeared into the room and the door closed with a soft click.

To be continued

**Please leave a comment, I know things are very unclear at the moment, but some feedback would be much appreciated. Thank you for reading!**

**x Albukirky**


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